


With You

by targaryin



Series: break the wheel [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dany is there for him, F/M, Fluff, Jon is a mess, Light Angst, Post Season 7, R Plus L Equals J, This is pretty soft imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targaryin/pseuds/targaryin
Summary: Jon learns who he really is and Daenerys is there





	With You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first time writing in a looongg while so please be gentle with any grammatical mistakes or just cohesiveness overall (lol) and it's my first ever time writing a GOT fic so I am nervous and excited. Maybe more parts if anyone would care for it, idk? Enjoy, please do share what you think <3 (Revised this and it's kinda cheesy but that's okay because GOT can be dark and they deserve to be happy)

Jon was lost. He hadn’t felt this lost in a long time.

He was never a bastard-- never a _Stark_.His name was Aegon Targaryen VI, heir and Crown Prince. Being named King In The North was a bit too much for him still but _this_?

When he watched Bran roll out of the godswood after he had effectively turned his life upside down with Sam’s assistance the first thought he had was of her. His aunt. The woman he surely loved even if he had never said it yet.

_What would Daenerys think?_

Daenerys had been on a journey for the Iron Throne ever since she was across the Narrow Sea as a Dothraki widow. She had worked and suffered all these years to come here to Westeros to reclaim what she believed was hers and now it was technically _his_.

He couldn’t fathom it. Jon was perfectly content being in the North and being the man who led the stubborn lords of the North into battle against the Night King. If they had found about him and who he was would they even want to fight under his command anymore? He supposed they would have to because this fight wasn’t about politics and birthrights-- it was about survival.

It was about _home._

A short breath came out of him as he thought about Sansa and Arya. What would they do? Would they even want anything to do with him, a Targaryen prince? It had been about a fortnight of being home off of the sea. When Jon had arrived at the front gates with a horde of Dothraki, Unsullied soldiers, two dragons, and a silver haired queen Sansa was not pleased. She welcomed them anyway because that’s what she does as Lady of Winterfell, even if she doesn’t want to.

And even if he always loved Arya the most and even if she had always looked up to him, he couldn’t be sure of her response to him not even being her brother by blood. She had been hard to read ever since he gotten home. Sure, their reunion had been emotional. A happy warm feeling crept up into his chest with the memory of her warm grin, the watery twinkle in her eye that he was sure he had as well. It didn’t even take him a minute to realize she hadn’t been the same wild, young girl who followed him everywhere when she had the chance. She was more controlled, more stoic with a cooler exterior that had been foreign to him. Whatever had happened to her he assumed was a result of being on her own for years. Jon still loved her-- that would never change, but would it change on her end?

Bran was not to be worried about. Sam had told him when he first got to Winterfell that his little brother was not really the same. He was not _really_ his brother, Bran told him that first night when they all dined for the first time in years as a family. Not minding the sudden gush of harsh winter air that passed over his hunched form of furs and leather, Jon chuffed a short laugh. Maybe Bran was trying to tell him then and there. Wargs were real and Jon knew that from his time being beyond the wall, living among the Free Folk as a spy for the Night’s Watch. Bran though was something different, the Three Eyed Raven, Sam told him. Which to Jon wasn’t hard to accept, he had seen dragons and the army of the dead. Not being Ned Stark’s son but Lyanna and Rhaegar’s was hard to accept.

He had never raped her, never took her against her will. Robert’s Rebellion was a total lie and he was birthed from it. When he thought of Lyanna, his mother, it pained him more than anything. She died bringing him into the world. All he ever wanted to know was who his mother was and where she was. Maybe she was still alive, he had foolishly thought more than once. No. She died long ago because she fell in love and her memory along with Rhaegar’s had been stained by a _lie_.

Ned Stark had lied to him his entire life about who he was. His mother, even his father. Whenever someone would say he was more similar to Ned than any of the Stark children he always felt some immense pride. To Jon, Ned was once the most honorable man he had even known. Even though he grew up as Bastard of Winterfell being Ned Stark’s son always made him feel a little proud. As proud as a bastard could be. Now Ned was his uncle, not his father, and that made him angry.

“Jon?”

A groan left his lips before he could even stop it. The crunching of snow under her footsteps should have alerted her presence to him but he supposed he was too busy doing that 'famous brooding', Tyrion had once called it. Resigning himself to his fate, he turned to face her.

Cold air restricted his lungs as he sucked in a breath at the sight of Daenerys Targaryen. The most beautiful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms. In the whole damn world, if you asked him. Yes, a great beauty in her white furs and long silver hair that was quite a sight framed by all of the ivory snow. A great beauty and his _aunt_.

He was fucked.

“Jon? What are you doing out here all alone?”

He could tell she must’ve been looking for him and he felt a little guilty. Ever since their arrival to Winterfell they hadn’t had enough time to just be together. Both of them were constantly being tugged in different directions, with Jon dealing with being King to the people of the North and readying them up for battle and Daenerys always checking on her men, making sure they were all settled and not acting too improper.

She passed by him to settle down on a rock that was identical to the very one he was sat on, covered in frozen moss and snow. Her light violet eyes that always seemed to melt him looked over at him expectantly.

“I’m just… thinking, I s’ppose.” His voice raw and scratchy.

Dany’s brow raised at this. “Thinking? Have the stubborn northern lords caused you to be in your woes again?” Her tone light with humor.

Jon huffed out a chuckle. _If only_ … he thought.

“No, I wish it were something that simple,” At this Dany frowned and opened her mouth to speak once more, but Jon kept going. “You know how I mentioned Bran and his visions, per say?”

Scooting forward a bit more, she nodded. “Yes,” Jon looked down at his boots, toes a bit numb for sitting out here for who knows how long. “Has he… seen something? The Night King?”

Bran hadn’t been able to see anything of the Night King ever since he told Jon that the Wall by Eastwatch had been brought down by Dany’s dragon. He supposed that’s why she sounded so worried. Ever since she learned of Viserion and his fate she had been upset, angry as well. Always on guard, ready to fly on Drogon’s back into battle. He admired her strength and her bravery but he knew that with bravery came fear.

“Yes, he has seen something but it is not the army of the dead, I’m afraid,” Her shoulders sagged a bit. With what he was about to tell her, he knew that she wouldn’t be relieved for long. “Dany, I have something to tell you.”

There it was, he thought, watching as her delicate face hardened into her queenly one. The one she had on when he first walked into her throne room at Dragonstone. Shoulders now squared, she was preparing herself for something unpleasant.

Chin tilted upward a little more, she bit out. “Well, what is it? You are acting strange.”

Jon shuddered. It was now or never. He may lose her and that very well may kill him all over again, but it would be her right to not want anything to do with him. To be done with him.

“I’m not… I’m not who you think I am-- who _I_ thought I was,” Eyes focused on the ground, he continued. “I’m not a Stark, Daenerys.”

A scoff left her lips. “Jon, if you are brooding over being a bastard and feeling like you’re not good enough, you should already know that means nothing to me. I don’t care if you’re highborn or not. You’re a Snow and that doesn’t change anything.”

A wave of grief rolled over him. Daenerys had mentioned how his name did not bother her before, even said that being a Targaryen exile felt a lot like being a bastard. Perhaps she was right about that. Even if he was a bastard, he always had a family. A proper home. She did not. She was so accepting of him and it made him feel awful.

Would she accept him, _Aegon_ and not Jon? Her nephew? The proclaimed ‘rightful’ heir to a throne he didn’t even want or really care for?

Shaking his head, mustering the courage to go on. “ _No_ , Dany. I am not a Stark,” Looking up at her briefly, seeing her confusion. “I am a… Targaryen.”

Silence.

There was nothing but silence.

The whistle of the wind and the rustle of the dead leaves being the only noise in the godswood.

For the life of him, he could not look up.

Never in his life had he felt this cold. He was waiting for her to say something and she was completely mute. This wasn’t something he was used to with her. Those couple of months on that boat had been filled with nothing but laughter and joy. Long talks and playful jests, her sounds of pleasure that he knew would haunt him forever after her rejection.

But now, nothing.

“I need you to say something.” Jon sounded desperate and knew it. Probably looked absolutely pathetic, not even being able to beg while looking her in the face. “Anything j-just say it, pl-”

A choked sob made him snap his neck up.

She was crying.

Daenerys Targaryen was crying and it was his fault. Gods, he was going to be tormented by this day for years.

Her big watery eyes pierced through him, teeth clenched. “What do you m-mean, ‘a Targaryen’?”

“Bran told me what he saw. He saw my mother, Lyanna Stark, after she gave birth to me in the Tower of Joy. She made my _uncle,_ Ned Stark, take me and claim me as his bastard.”

More tears fell down her face, he was sure that the sight of him was blurry. “How does that make you a Targaryen?”

“My mother and my real father, Rhaegar, got married in a secret ceremony in Dorne,” Dany bowed her head. “He never hurt her, it was all a lie. My whole life has been a _lie_.”

All he could feel at the moment was pure anguish. His father lied to him for all these years. When Jon left for the Wall all he could think about was what Ned said to him. If they had met again would he have really told Jon about Lyanna and Rhaegar? Would he have lied again? He couldn’t know.

“You don’t-” She choked, head in her hands. “You don’t look like a Targaryen.”

Jon huffed, tears in his own eyes now. “I bet my _uncle_ thanked the Gods for that. Made the lie easier.”

Bitter, he was.

Daenerys lifted her head up, eyes red. “You told me of your father, Jon,” He opened his mouth to correct her, but she beat him to it. “ _Your father_ , Jon. Do you remember what you told me? That he was the best man you knew, that you were proud to be his son?”

“What does that got to do with anything right now?”

Her violet eyes were fire now. A true dragon. “It’s got everything to do with it! He lied to you because he knew that you would’ve been killed had anyone knew about you!”

Jon didn’t want to hear this. It was his right to be angry with Ned Stark.

This seemed to upset Daenerys more, his head being forced to tilt upwards as he watched her rise above him.

“Do you doubt me, Jon Snow?,” When he said nothing she continued, looming over him. “Do you doubt me when I say that Robert Baratheon had assassins come after me and my brother when I was a babe? When I was a young girl?”

The tone of her voice made him feel all those feelings he felt when he first met her, only this time it was not the Dragonstone throne room, it was the godswood at Winterfell. His home and he still felt intimidated.

“Do you think I am a liar? That I was in exile for the fun of the adventure, constantly having to flee from one place to the next to save my life? Do you?”

She was right, so he said in a whisper. “No.”

Her breath left her in a frustrated exhale. “Be angry with him, fine. But I’ve heard tales of your father and the kind of man he was. He may have helped that usurper take the throne and ultimately end my family, but he did have honor. It’s clear to me that he did it to protect you. He did it for his sister and he did it for you.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Daenerys was right and it didn’t help, only left him feeling more sorrow.

She dropped to her knees in front him, taking his gloved hands in hers. “Jon, if Robert Baratheon would have found out about you, you would have ended up like Elia Martell’s children.” Tender, her voice was now and so were her round violet eyes as she looked up into his eyes, into his soul really.

“You’re right, Dany. You are, but what about us? What do we do?”

Truth be told, he knew that he should probably not still feel the way he did for her. Her being his aunt, but he was already in too deep, content with letting the waves crash over him and drown him if they did. He could only hope that she felt that way too.

“Well,” she breathed out, tightening her grip on his hands. His heart tightened along with them. “You are my family now. I never thought I would have family again, convinced I was the ‘last dragon'.”

He watched her throat as she gulped and watched as her eyes grew watery once more. “But, if you let me have you, I’ll _never_ let you go. Never.”

Relief.

It was suffocating him. She still wanted him? She wanted to have him?

He couldn’t believe it, she was too good to be true. Too good to be his.

 _His_ , he liked the sound of that. He loved it and he loved her. “Daenerys this means that I’m the heir though, I’m sorry. I know that you’ve fought for this and I couldn’t just take it.”

She narrowed her eyes, her grip firm and steady. “No, Jon. You have to, our family, our very future depends on it.”

“That’s absu-”

“It is not absurd,” Voice hot with passion. “This is yours and I will not let you do this. You were born for this.”

Jon was in disbelief. This woman puzzled him sometimes. She had prided herself on being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Was this the same woman who told him to bend the knee?

Sensing his utter confusion, she sighed and even rolled her eyes. “Jon Snow, you are a good ruler. You are a good leader and you are a good king. You are a wolf and you are a dragon. All that you have endured your whole life was for this. If there is anyone I would step down to, it is you. If you cannot rule the Seven Kingdoms as king then who can?”

_You are a dragon…_

Alright, he thought.

Pulling his hands from hers, despite her look of worry, he appraised her.

This woman who was a godsend had so much faith in him, he was sure he didn’t deserve it. As he looked at her pleading gaze, he didn’t think he’d have the heart to deny her. So he’d do it. He’d be the king that she thought he was, but he wanted something in return.

Patting his lap with both hands, “Come here.”

Warily, she raised herself up again and settled sideways on his lap, arm wrapping around his neck. He welcomed her weight and all of her white furs, snaking his arms around her hips. This felt good, felt a lot like home.

He smiled up at her and she grinned right back down at him. Gods, she was beautiful.

“I’ll do it,” The way her eyes twinkled made his chest squeeze in the best way, gaze focusing on a snowflake on her upper lash. “I’ll do it but there’s something I want from you.”

Raising her brow in that familiar fashion, “Already demanding things of me, _Your Grace_?” She teased.

A hearty chuckle bubbled out of him and he tightened his grip just a bit more. “Only that you marry me.”

Her smile dropped and she seized up in his embrace. Blinking multiple times, while shaking her head, “No.”

“And why not?”

Seeing that he was not jesting with her, she pushed at his chest. “Jon, I have told you that I cannot have children. You would be wasting yourself with me. The Targaryen line has to continue. You should be able to be a father one day.”

“First of all, you know how I feel about that,” He was referring to that conversation they had in the Dragon Pit and she knew it, eyes lighting up with recollection. “You just said that you’ll have me, Dany. Are you going back on your word?”

Jon wasn’t being harsh with her, she was scared and he knew it. But he wasn’t going to do this without her. He couldn’t if he was being honest. If they survived the inevitable Long Night that was almost upon them, they were taking back and ruling the Seven Kingdoms together.

Dany sputtered. “No, I am not going back on my word. I’ll have you but maybe you should save marriage for-”

He did _not_ want to hear that.

“Save marriage for who? Another woman? What, so you’ll be my paramour? No, Daenerys, I want to marry you,” Her eyes softened. “I want to do this with you, it can’t be anyone else. Don’t you want to break the wheel? Make this shit world a better one?”

She looked at him for a long while, taking in what he was saying.

“So,” she spoke up, “You’ll break the wheel with me?”

Taking her question as a victory, the sweetest victory he’s ever known, he leaned in touching his forehead with hers. “It can only be you.”

Humming, she closed her eyes. “Then I’d be honored to be your wife, Jon Snow.”

Jon had never felt any bliss quite like this.

They stayed hugging each other for some time, until Daenerys piped up.

“Quite cold, isn’t it?”

Jon blinked his eyes open, studying her surveying the godswood and the little shivers she was trying to suppress. She was not used to the cold just yet. He was fond of her rosy cheeks but not fond of the idea of her freezing. He tapped her hips twice, signalling for her to stand and followed after. “Let’s get you inside then.”

As he took her hand and led her almost nearly out of the godswood, he halted.

“What is it?” Dany’s hand squeezed his.

Caught up in the momentary glee of Daenerys Targaryen being his wife to be he had forgotten about everyone else. What would they think? What would they _do_?

Clearly his apprehension was plain as day because Dany squeezed his hand even tighter and looked up at him with such warmth, if he were an icicle he would surely melt. “Do not worry. We’ll do this together, my love.”

 _My love_.

He liked that. Squeezing her hand back, he turned face forward with squared shoulders and a light heart. With Daenerys by his side, he knew he could conquer anything and he'd do it for the two of them. 

“Together.”


End file.
